


Mechanical Aid

by skitzofreak



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Droid Appreciation Week, Droid rights, F/M, Favorite Droid, Free Will, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 02:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15596442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitzofreak/pseuds/skitzofreak
Summary: “You say: I am not free. But I have raised and lowered my arm. Everyone understands that this illogical answer is an irrefutable proof of freedom.”― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace--K-2SO, an Imperial droid factory, and the runtime matrix of choices.





	Mechanical Aid

K-2SO is a practical being. He values facts, numbers, calculable results drawn from observation and reasonable inference. So he is not particularly interested in the spectacular polychromatic oranges and red and blues that glimmer across the surface of the dark water by his feet. Nor does he waste valuable processing time recording the distinct difference between the cold night cycle on Bomis Koori IV and the heat currently radiating from the nearby open factory door. He remains unmoved by the chaotic sounds issuing from the large, square opening, and does not bother to scan or intercept the rapidly-moving dark shapes that flood past him in the night.

Kay is a practical being, so it does not bother him much that the Lethe Merchandising factory has just exploded. These things happened.

What does matter, of course, is that Cassian Andor is inside when it does so.

In Kay’s primary processor, program CA3270: Health And Welfare [Cassian, My Friend] begins runtime. Cassian often travels into dangerous environments for the sake of his objectives, and Kay has learned to write limiters into CA3270; extensive changes in circumstance, however, require on-site rewrites, and Kay is more than prepared for that, too. CA3270 notes that whether or not Cassian has achieved his objective inside, the fire creates too much chaos and health hazards to ignore. Cassian’s mission was originally slated for a different part of the factory; however, there is no other reason to assume that something so catastrophic as a massive explosive event would have occurred here due to any other reason. Therefore, chance that the explosion is related to Cassian’s mission = [66%]. Chance that Cassian is within the fire zone and therefore immediate danger = [54%]. The parameter is unacceptable.

JE0ABY, a sub-program to CA3270, notes that Jyn Erso is also inside the structure. Chance that she is within the fire zone = [68%], dependent on whether or not she left Cassian at the fourth level of the factory as per the original plan, or if she stayed with him.

Kay does not bother to calculate the odds that Jyn Erso stayed with Cassian. He has better things to do.

The open factory door is too small for him, in it’s original form. However, the explosion has increased the door’s size approximately thirty-seven percent, adequate for his height. Thermal scans inform him that the metal edges of the half-melted walls will burn most organic flesh, but pose little threat to his carburized metal parts. His optics detect no heat greater than what his processors can stand. Kay strides forward, allowing the indistinct shapes of fleeing workers to part around him, ignoring the small, squishy organic that stumbles blindly against his chassis and then bounces off into the night, rubbing at smoke-filled eyes. He does tag and save a small note to his current memory record that three of the shapes shuffling awkwardly past him are synthetic. It appears that at least the protocol droids have been allowed a self-preservation program, or perhaps someone inside had the presence of mind to order them to evacuate the fire zone.

He reaches the doorway into the burning factory. By now, bright orange flames over ten meters tall roar from the factory’s low ceiling, sporadically mixed with tongues of brilliant blue flame where Kay calculates the factory stored the copper-tempered wires and circuits meant for the lower-grade droids produced here. Through the door, he can visually detect hanging automated arms and piles of assembly line rubble punctuated by burning synthetic shells. One of the shells appears to still be twitching, an exposed mess of wires and actuators that might reasonably resemble an articulated Human arm reaching out toward K2SO. The probability that the decimated droid is in any way aware of Kay presence = [0%], so he ignores it. None of the shells that Kay can pick out are even facing the exit. He logs his calculation that the majority of droids produced in this factory are not equipped with self preservation routines as [accurate] and switches his optics to dimmed visual. Infrared or CCD vision will provide [0%] improved situational awareness in this extremely bright, hot environment. Memory File CA755F9890 chimes in, annoyingly, just as Kay steps across the threshold and into the hostile environment.

[[“They don’t make KX models here,” Cassian says, adjusting the ident badge that marks him as a defense contractor for a small firm under the Lethe Merchandising Corporation. “Your presence will draw a great deal of attention.”

“You have brought me into factories that did not produce my model,” Kay responds, although his processors have already calculated the uselessness of the sentence.

“When my cover allowed for either personal protection or I could pass you off as a professional demo model,” Cassian shakes his head, and Kay is pleased to note that he has almost exactly predicted his organic friend’s expression. He spends a moment to parse, once again, through the complex emotional cues he can scan in Cassian’s face as he rejects Kay’s feeble attempt to join him. Sorrow, concern, frustration, and humor, Kay is almost certain of those. There is something else that might potentially be understanding – but it was Jyn who told him that, and she was smiling when she said it. Kay has anything Jyn says while smiling marked as [possibly sarcasm], and requires extra processing time to evaluate it.

She is not smiling now, so he risks turning to her for help. “You are posing as a bodyguard, not a contractor. I could reasonably pose as your service droid.”

Jyn frowns at him, but Kay calculates [12%] = her frown indicates unhappiness with Kay himself. “If it gets sticky in there,” she says to Cassian, jerking her head towards Kay, “Could help.”

Kay adds [+2%] to his current standing calculation re: friendship status with Jyn Erso.

“I’m sorry, Kay,” Cassian says firmly. “We planned this as an infiltration and stealth op. Bringing a KX series into a predominately noncombat-droid factory would work expressly against that plan. Stay with the car,” he nods towards the grav-car that had brought them out to the lake edge, near the factory main entrance, but lacked the clearances required to drive onto the property itself. “When we come out, we’ll move towards the public transit station, then circle back once clear of the security cameras on the perimeter.” Cassian rests a hand briefly on Kay’s chassis. “If we’re not back in twelve standard hours, assume catastrophic failure and execute code Crimson Hutt.”

“Returning to base without you will not end well,” Kay informs him earnestly.

Cassian’s face turns dark. Behind him, Jyn’s eyes narrow. “They won’t bolt you.” Cassian's voice is flat. “I have safeguards in place against it.”

“Shara Bey,” Jyn says softly. “Weems. Organa. He called in a bunch of favors.” Cassian turns to look at her over his shoulder, and the angle prevents Kay from scanning his face. Jyn shrugs. “And there’s Bodhi, Baze, and Chirrut.”

“I was not referring to a hypothetical punishment,” Kay starts, but a distant horn blasts, three long sirens that indicate the start of the night shift at the plant. Cassian drops his hand and steps back.

“Wait for us, Kay. We’ll need you to escape. Let’s go,” he tells Jyn, who nods and falls in beside him. She pauses, though, before walking out of the concealing brush and onto the path leading to public transit. She looks Kay straight in the optics and pointedly taps the right side of her abdomen. Kay does not repeat the gesture back at her – he already knows exactly where the small Derringer blaster she scrounged for him a few weeks back is cleverly hidden inside his right chassis, and touching it will not make it any more or less accessible – but he almost wants to, anyway.]]

Memory File CA755F9890 ends, and Kay assigns it, once again, to long term memory storage. This time, however, he cross-tags it with subprogram JE0ABY, file name JE117A88: Body Language [Jyn Erso, Observed]. His databank of Jyn memories is several orders of magnitude smaller than his databank of Cassian memories, but growing all the same. Since he calculates the chance that Cassian and Jyn will continue their increasingly emotional and physical relationship for the foreseeable future, he may soon find it more efficient to combine the memory databases between them. He's done it before with smaller memory banks, but he is willing to sit through the hours of processing it will take to consolidate his memories of Cassian and Jyn if that is how their life is going to be.

But not, he notes as he shoves a large burning beam impatiently to the side, right now.

Right now, he has to ensure they survive the present before worrying about their future.

The fire becomes significantly less of an immediate threat as he passes through the factory assembly line and up to the office floors. Smoke clouds interfere with visual scans, and infrared is only [+7%] more useful in these spaces than down on the factory floor. Kay is forced to move almost like an organic through the heavy clouds of smoke, groping forward slowly and minding where his tread falls. At least his progress involves considerably less respiratory distress than the handful of organics who are still moving on this level. He makes a point of prodding each inert organic form with his foot to check for familiar facial hair or a pointed chin, but none prove to be Cassian or Jyn. He steps over the inert synthetic forms without pause.

The stairwells are on fire near the north end, and while Kay could survive the fire itself, there is a [94%] probability the structure is significantly weaker there and will not support his considerable weight. The stairs to the east are relatively clear, but will add [+2.6 minutes, galactic standard] to his transit time even if he moves at max lateral speed. If Cassian and Jyn are to the north, as their plan intended, he will lose valuable time taking the safer route.

Kay turns on his internal comm scanner, and starts program CA3275: Locate [Cassian, My Friend].

It takes approximately [0.45 seconds, galactic standard] until Cassian’s emergency comm unit registers and returns his ping. The wait is agonizing.

They are east. Northeast, but close enough that the eastern stairs become a reasonable path to them. The comm pings him again, although he does not query the transponder. A commanded ping from Cassian’s end – either he or Jyn had noticed Kay’s query and pressed the emergency comm button in response. Chance either of them are injured or trapped in some immediate peril without the means to escape alone = [85%] and climbing.

Kay increases movement to max lateral speed. He reaches the top of the heavy concrete staircase in [2.2 minutes, galactic standard], and turns towards the north. Another unqueried ping. Kay is already moving at max lateral speed. He shuts down several minor subprogams and focuses processing power on amplifying the ping, in case it stops. He sends a query, and the comm responds, and then immediately pings again, almost frantic.

The smoke is thinner here, although the difference would not be appreciable to Human senses. There are fewer bodies up here, too, either organic or synthetic. An 8D-series shuffles down the corridor toward him, dragging a half-crushed leg behind them. They register Kay’s rapid approach, the dull red lights in their optics igniting to max brightness. The 8D-series are not, in general, popular models. K2SO the Imperial security droid has mostly garnered respect from them, but some twisted organic had long ago written a wholly unnecessary love of pain into their programming. It resulted, in Kay’s opinion, in some very unpleasant beings, beloved of tortures and sadists across the galaxy and absolutely no one else. This one sees Kay moving at max speed, registers the intensity of the signal he is following, and something vile flashes through their code. He can already see it happening in his predictive modeling program a whole [1.5 seconds, galactic standard] before it happens - the 8D dropping the mangled leg, stepping sideways into his path, a pointless yet deliberate move meant to slow him on his way to his objective. There is no reason for it, no gain for the 8D-series, they probably do not even know what task they are inhibiting or why K2SO is in such a great hurry. It is simply a warped desire to inflict pain, misery, and failure on another being.

Kay spares [0.4 seconds, galactic standard] to wondering what kind of organic would even come up with that programming. Then he plows at max speed into the spindly 8D, shattering their light-alloy carbon chassis with his significantly superior bodywork and sending the largest chunks careening into the wall to his left. Their lower half splinters and cracks beneath his feet as he runs on, causing a [0.2 seconds, galactic standard] delay in Kay’s progress towards the emergency comm.

If the 8D has just significantly impacted Kay’s chances of finding and rescuing either Cassian or Jyn, he will return to this location and confirm that the 8D-series programming files are all thoroughly destroyed in this factory fire. He makes a note in his memory files to mention it to Cassian anyway, when the danger is cleared. The galaxy does not need more torturers.

Another ping. Kay turns a sharp left, skidding slightly on the slick floor, and finds himself facing yet another corridor full of smoke. This smoke, however, has a different consistency from the other smoke, more ozone discharge in the particles, and [0.7 seconds, galactic standard], he discovers why. Three red blaster bolts fly past his shoulder and shatter against the wall behind him. His optics cycle between visual and infrared, now that he is far enough from the main fire to get some use from heat vision, and [12 meters, galactic standard] in front of him he picks out four stormtroopers. They have their backs to him, which means the three blaster bolts were likely not meant for Kay in the first place. The aim of those three shots was poor if they were meant for the stormtroopers, but the grouping was tight and the time between shots was within Cassian’s normal reaction shot times. The emergency comm pings again. The probability that the four stormtroopers are firing up the corridor at Cassian = [91%]. A flurry of shots that an organic might characterize as [wild] but Kay can see are actually splayed out in a specific sweep pattern peppers the stormtroopers. One shot catches Kay in the right upper arm, but the damage = [3%] to his operating capabilities, so he ignores it. The probability that these shots come from Jyn’s blaster = [97%], assuming she is with Cassian at the other end of the corridor. Cassian’s aim and Jyn’s sweep pattern indicate that they are firing blind into the smoke, towards the stormtroopers. The probability they will continue to fire = [99%]. Probability they are aware K2SO is within proximity of the stormtroopers = [2%]. Probability they will strike him unintentionally if he attacks the stormtroopers from this angle = [94%].

Probability they will be struck by a stormtrooper bolt if he does not attack immediately = [unacceptable parameters].

Kay attacks.

Blow to the top of the first ‘trooper’s helmet. The plas-steel is designed for energy weapon assault or Human-strength blows. Kay’s reinforced durasteel fist smashes straight through it and cracks the skull beneath like an egg. The ‘trooper drops. The forward two ‘troopers do not react; their backs are to Kay, their weapons trained towards the far end of the corridor where red blasts continue to flash in slightly random patterns. The third ‘trooper, however, is close enough that he sees the first drop, and he swings towards Kay blaster-first.

Kay hooks him under the armpits and heaves. The ‘trooper = [0.3 kilograms] heavier than the average stormtrooper, but the weight is well within Kay’s specialized servo limitations, and he gets a solid throw. The thick smoke means that he cannot mark how far, precisely, the ‘trooper crashes down the corridor - which is a shame, because Jyn Erso’s personal best is currently [0.1 meters, merchant standard] better than his own. The loss of a chance to surpass her in that competition rankles, but Kay has other problems that require prioritized attention.

Another storm of red bolts sweeps from left to right down the corridor, and Kay registers one indirect hit to his left hip joint and a direct strike to his right wrist. His right hand whines and goes dark in his autonomy matrix, limp and useless until he repairs the connections. The left hip scrapes unpleasantly when he steps forward, but the damage is more cosmetic than functionally inhibiting.

The third stormtrooper stumbles to his knees, grabbing at his stomach. Kay does not wait to see if the shot incapacitates him sufficiently – he doesn’t have the time. He pulls the Derringer blaster from his chassis and shoots the ‘trooper in the head.

The shots down the hallway cease, which is fortunate, because Kay’s processing power is absorbed in the fourth ‘trooper, who finally catches sight of the droid at his back. Kay notes the awkward, faltering way the ‘trooper shoves himself back against the wall, the clumsy and unprofessional way the ‘trooper’s rifle barrel droops towards the floor. Indoctrination standards have truly waned, if this frightened, useless reaction is now common among stormtroopers. Probability that this ‘trooper is indicative of current recruit quality seems low, however, so he doesn’t dwell on it. Kay puts his otherwise incapacitated right hand to some use, and slams it sideways into the ‘trooper’s mask. The helmet cracks and twists off the ‘trooper’s head.

Kay has never really understood those helmets. Cassian calls them “skull-like,” Jyn (and several other rebels) call them “bucket heads,” but to Kay, there has always been something droid-like in their structure. He wonders if this says something about the Imperial attitude towards droids, and if so, what exactly that statement might be.

He also does not understand the almost universal response to losing their helmet that he has logged in every Imperial stormtrooper he’s witnessed experiencing the loss. This ‘trooper does what they all do when someone pulls away the mask – he gasps and reaches for his face.

The smoke is growing thicker in the corridor. The shooting has stopped down the hall, but no one has called out to Kay, and the emergency comm no longer pings. Kay calculates approximately [3.7 minutes, galactic standard] until the eastern stairs are also on fire, and therefore impassible to Jyn and Cassian. They have less time than that, if the Imperial fire brigades respond in a timely manner to the factory fire and establish a perimeter around the disaster.

Kay raises his blaster.

At the same moment, the ‘trooper looks up.

Human, Male, slightly above average height and weight, dark brown cranial follicles shaved to the skin, and wide dark brown eyes. Sharp features. The barest hint of dark facial hair beginning to show along his jawline. Sunken cheeks.

Young.

Kay has never understood the organic emphasis on age. It all seems so random to him, how some organics will value young beings over older ones, or others will allow thousands of their youth to die in the service and protection of one or two elders. The fact that this ‘trooper appears to be only barely out of his pubescent stage means very little to Kay, who is a practical being and does not concern himself with assigning value numbers to arbitrary characteristics.

What does mean something, of course, is that the face staring up at him with blood running from his nose looks very much like another young, frightened face that Kay encountered many years ago. Cassian had been significantly younger than this ‘trooper, and the probability that Cassian would not take well to the suggestion that he in any way resembles a stormtrooper = [100%]. Kay attaches a note to the memory file, [Not For Distribution], and locks the memory, isolating the portion that saw a frightened rebel boy in a frightened Imperial soldier.

[3.2 minutes, galactic standard] until the fire reaches the eastern stairs.

Kay lowers the blaster and shoots the ‘trooper in the leg. The Human howls and crashes to the floor, clutching his leg. Kay raises his damaged left leg and initiates full power actuation in the joints, smashing his foot down hard on the ‘trooper’s rifle. The blaster cracks, a thin reddish light flashes as the firing chamber ruptures, and then it goes dark, as unresponsive and useless as Kay’s right hand.

Kay moves past the groaning ‘trooper and down the corridor.

“Your rescue has arrived,” he announces loudly into the thickening smoke. “Please do not attack.”

“Kay?” Cassian is so hoarse that he would possibly be unrecognizable to an organic ear. Kay, however, runs the sound byte against his extensive sonic database of Cassian’s voice, and matches the harmonics perfectly. He turns toward the sound.

“Jyn shot me,” he informs Cassian as he rounds the corner and finds them both kneeling on the floor. Jyn shoots him a glare over her scarf, which she has sensibly pulled from under her Imperial costume and wrapped tightly around her face. She is also holding a breather to Cassian’s face, clearly against his will. Kay increases the probability that they will achieve friendship status another [+1%]. Cassian is cradling one arm against his stomach, Jyn has a grim set to her jaw, and both suffer from red, streaming optics as they squint into the smoke. Cassian’s voice indicates excessive smoke inhalation.

Kay runs five potential scenarios for their safe extraction in approximately [1.2 seconds, galactic standard], and then selects the plan most likely to remove all three of them from this situation with the least risk of respiratory damage, bleeding, or unfortunate encounters with any more of the droids built in this facility. Considering that almost none of the synthetics manufactured here were apparently high-value enough to have self-preservation programs, the last problem seems unlikely.

He is not in the mood to risk it, however, and the smoke is starting to clog some of his internal sensors. Jyn’s face is pale over the scarf, and Cassian’s dark brown eyes are wide.

Kay picks him up. Cassian makes a protesting sort of cough/grunt that Kay logs in Archive CA55S: Nonlingual Verbal Cues [Cassian, My Friend], but otherwise ignores. Jyn moves to Kay’s side with commendable speed and without any additional fussing. She looks pointedly at the Derringer blaster that Kay still holds awkwardly in his left hand, and holds out her own, palm up. With his right hand out of commission and his left occupied, chance that Kay will drop Cassian increase [+26%]. Chance that Jyn will fail to return the blaster to him after the need to carry Cassian has passed = [4%].

Kay hesitates.

Jyn stands patiently, waiting.

Cassian opens his mouth to say something, coughs instead, a vicious, ominous sound that shakes Cassian’s fragile Human body. Jyn’s eyes widen and then narrow, but she does not reach out and snatch the blaster from Kay’s hand.

He sets it in her palm, turns sharply on his heel, and races for the eastern stairs. Limited visibility and Jyn’s inferior design require him to reduce lateral speed, but he doesn’t drop back to walking pace, and she keeps up well enough.

Distantly, his auditory receptors pick up the sound of multiple large craft incoming.

“Imperial response team,” Cassian grates through the breather that Jyn has successfully forced over his face. At Kay’s side, Jyn coughs into her scarf and stumbles. She gropes forward, finds Kay’s elbow and latches on. He increases their speed as much as he dares, and prepares to sling Cassian over his shoulder to free up his other arm if Jyn goes down. Carrying both of them will slow his speed to walking pace at best, and increase the chance of Imperial capture significantly. If captured, his choices will be to self destruct, or submit to a full memory download and subsequent wipe.

He primes his self destruct sequence, just in case.

Briefly, his self-preservation program computes the probability percentages of his own survival if he abandons one or both of the Humans. They are high. Very high.

Kay shuts off the program, and switches his optics back to low-grade visual. He avoids going back to the now-molten factory floor, but the heat radiates throughout the building now and both infrared and CCD vision are once more useless.

“There,” Jyn croaks, pointing towards a vaguely dark shape in the walls. Kay risks a quick high-definition scan, which nearly burns his sensitive CCD optics but does reveal that the dark shape is an irregular hole in the factory, spilling out into the night beyond. It isn’t the same side as they entered, which will mean a long trek through the surrounding fields and scrublands to get back to the gravcar. But it is certainly an improvement to the burning factory.

Kay is a practical being, so he isn’t relieved when they stumble out of the smoke and debris into the clear night. He doesn’t waste processing power noting the brightness of the stars, or thanking some vague divine concept that the majority of the Imperial disaster response team seems to be on the far side of the factory from where they have exited. No, Kay is a practical being, and he only notes that when Cassian rips off the breather and sucks in a lungful of air, there is no worrying rattle or wheeze to indicate damaged lung tissue. When Jyn collapses to her knees and scrubs at her face, the lines of her posture indicate relief rather than pain. Cassian, unfortunately, does not recognize the subtle differences, or his emotional programming interferes with his otherwise powerful observational capabilities, and he wrenches himself from Kay’s grasp to stumble to her side.

“Fine,” Jyn coughs as he lifts her face in his hands to visually inspect the possible damage. “I’m fine. We’re fine.” She reaches back and cups his face in a mirrored gesture, and Kay notes the breaking of tension in the lines of Cassian’s face. “We made it,” Jyn murmurs. Cassian closes his eyes and drops his forehead until it touches hers, and they both breathe ragged but steady in the darkness.

Kay runs a sensor sweep of the area. Clear.

“We have a window of approximately twenty standard minutes,” Kay tells them after he’s waited an appropriate window of time for them to reboot and start their logic runtimes. His organics are better than most, but they all seem to require restarts after intense emotional bouts. If he rushes the process, he is likely to get total lockup and possibly decreased functionality.

On the other hand, the Imperials are swarming the area, and it’s time to go.

“Thank you, Kay,” Cassian says, “for saving us.”

Kay returns his focus to the kneeling Humans at his feet. They both struggle up, leaning on one another, and Jyn turns her head to cough into her arm once again. Cassian tenses, glances at her, but she stops quickly enough and shakes her head at him. He relaxes marginally at the signal.

Kay flags the moment in his memory files for future review. Cassian and Jyn seem to have developed an entire nonverbal language that he has yet to fully decode, but he has hundreds of these little exchanges that he is meticulously logging in a new database, and sooner or later he will have enough data to understand.

“Yeah,” Jyn says just under the wailing of sirens and the muted explosions still happening somewhere inside the ruined factory. Her arm tightens around Cassian’s side, holding him up as much as taking comfort from his presence. “Thanks, Kay.”

“I am your friend,” Kay informs them (and internally, he gives in to the inevitable and alters Jyn’s flag from [Ally] to [Friend], because he is not a liar). “We should leave now.”

Cassian nods and gestures uncertainly out into the darkness. “We’ll follow your lead.”

“Of course you will,” Kay says, striding forward. “You are my friends.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bomis Koori IV was the headquarters for a particularly large battle droid producer during the Clone Wars. There’s a whole sordid history involved, but it’s utterly irrelevant to Kay, and therefore this fic.
> 
> Lethe Merchandising is an in-canon business that held the majority of shares in a large defense corporation that built the majority of the battle droids used in Clone Wars. The defense corporation actually held several contracts with the Republic, and had a lot of political influence among the Galactic Senate. When the Empire formed, the new government took over the factories and “Imperialized” them (a statement which is ominously vague on the wookiepedia). The name of the Defense Corporation? Corporate Alliance.
> 
> CA3270 – I chose this file name because I headcanon that Cassian picked Kay up while he was a teenager. And since no one was using “Before Battle of Yavin” as a calendar before the New Republic went back and started recording their history, I stick largely with the Lothal Calendar when I write out dates in these stories. So if Cassian picked Kay up when he was, say, 13-14 years old, that would have been Lothal Year 3270, about 12 years post-Empire formation.
> 
> Carburizing metal is a form of metal hardening that makes metal more resistant to various damage, including heat. While I can imagine that the cheap, disposable battle droids from the Clone Wars probably did not get this sort of consideration, I doubt the Empire would skimp on their “high end security” droids meant to bodyguard upper crust officers and officials. Kay is built to be dangerous from the bones out. 
> 
> Crimson Hutt is a goofy reference to a comm term used in mil aviation to indicate that the mission has gone FUBAR, original objectives are now impossible, and retreat is advisable. It’s basically a polite way of saying “fuck this, lads, it’s all gone sideways, I’ll see you at the bar at home base.” Here, Cassian means it in a slightly less funny way – “mission failure, operative lost, save what Alliance assets possible.” Kay, in this case, is the asset.
> 
> We only get to see one [8D-series droid in Star Wars](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/8D8), and he is not a fun person. Granted, in canon it’s not really his fault that someone else “programmed him for sadism,” but then, that’s sort of the point.
> 
> I also headcanon that this factory built and distributed [IT-O droids](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/IT-O_Interrogator), also known as the creepy black ball covered in needles that Vader brought into Leia’s prison cell in ‘A New Hope.’ I always thought that thing was just a tool, like a cart full of awfulness, but turns out it was a sentient being specifically designed to cause pain and anguish in every organic species known to the Empire! How ‘bout that?


End file.
